Parasomnia
by BelovedShadow
Summary: Dark Lords, for the most part, are rather tough individuals. So why has Voldemort started napping midday? Perhaps he's getting old and tired, or perhaps he knows that ten thousand miles away, Harry Potter is sleeping. NC-17, secretive!Harry, Bondage


**Warnings: This fanfic will contain sexually explicit material, rated NC-17. This means that firstly, it's not even legal for me to post this fanfic on this website; and secondly, it's not legal for you to read it if you're underage. Now, with that said - I'm not telling if you're not! **

**A/N: Okay, so those of you who follow me on facebook know that I've been talking about this HPLV one-shot of mine... that "one-shot" has gotten a bit too long, so I am now making this into a ficlet. It'll have three chapters instead of one, but I hope you like it just the same, and when it's finished then feel free to read it all in one go as if it were really a one-shot all along xD **

**Enjoy!**

Australia. Of all the cruel and unusual punishments Lord Voldemort had dished out to his death eaters, surely _this _was the worst Severus Snape had suffered in his life. The Cruciatus was only a mild tickle in one's ear compared to _this _heat. Snape couldn't even cast a cooling spell on himself. The Dark Lord had taken their wands – _all _of their wands for examination after that ridiculous episode in the graveyard six months ago.

Lucius was absolutely distraught without his. Pureblood morons: the lot of them valued a magical twig more than their own pricks. Severus snorted disdainfully at the thought. He was just as much a man as he ever was _without _the wand, thank-you-very-much, and if it wasn't so damn _hot _he'd be just as dignified as his usual stature demanded. As it was, though – he had a very un-Snape-ish trail of sweat beading at his forehead and between his eyes. Ah, yes, the privilege of being in the Dark Lord's inner circle, forever living a life where you were either half-asleep or half-dead, and you were so used to both that you could barely tell the difference, and when you _could _you didn't care.

Narcissa was looking at him with an expression of pity, which Severus despised but said nothing of. She thought, like the rest of them, that perhaps he would not be so affected by the heat if he would simply take off the heavy black robes that covered his entire body from neck to toe. That was absurd. One of the many mysteries of life in this world was the wonder of what lied beneath Snape's many cloaks and drapes of clothing, and he wouldn't want to ruin the effect for anyone – especially not people who would turn on him in a second. No, no – even Voldemort himself would see nothing more of Snape than his face and his forearm. Nothing else was necessary, so nothing else would be shown. Period, the end.

And so, he perspired.

"What is the time, Wormtail?" The Dark Lord wheezed out in that sickening imitation of a voice.

The rat sputtered, and fished desperately through his robes for a watch or timepiece of some sort. A harsh glance from Voldemort, and Peter dropped to the floor in agony, clawing at his brand new silver hand, which was clearly causing him some distress. Silly little fool – Severus had many a reason to hate the pathetic whelp, and it seemed that every time he saw him he found a new cause for his lingering distaste. What kind of a fool would accept a favor from Lord Voldemort and think it didn't come with a catch?

Bellatrix seemed quite delighted by Pettigrew's unfortunate position, and smirked briefly before hovering ever-closer to her master, seeming to breath in his very essence as if she required _eau de Voldemort_ with ever inhale rather than oxygen. "It is nearly midday, my lord." She answered him, her eyes gleaming hungrily as if after all this time she actually expected him to get up and pat her on the head for her efforts.

"I thought so," Voldemort said, before turning to look directly at Snape. The spy visibly repressed a shudder of disgust as those not-quite-human eyes settled themselves on his face, but he knew to act natural. After all, Voldemort was probably still a little weary of allowing Snape back into this particular group of people anyway. It was not an easy task, getting this close to the man, especially now, when his body was new and overly sensitive in a way that was not quite good, but not quite vulnerable. "Severus, I need a potion from you, to make me sleep. I have, thus far, been forcing myself to nap magically, with the aid of Bellatrix or Wormtail; but I believe that a potion would be wiser, as it wouldn't require any collaboration."

Snape nodded, and bowed low, murmuring his agreement in a noncommittal jumble of words that were unheard and unimportant. He would agree, because if he didn't then he would die – what did it matter what he _said _about it?

"My lord? Are you unwell?" Narcissa asked, displaying a strange maternal concern as if she was looking at a young Tom Riddle rather than a distorted snake-spawn who didn't have an innocent bone in his body and defined the word 'sadistic' with every syllable that left his mouth.

"I assure you, Narcissa, I am of good health," Voldemort insisted with something that was clearly supposed to be a smile, but instead displayed itself in the kind of terrifying sneer that almost made Severus regain his respect for the man. A joy for frightening innocents was probably the only thing that Voldemort and Snape still shared in their views – Children were more fun when they were terrified. It was a simple fact. Of course, there were a _certain _three brats that refused to fear Voldemort _and _Snape, but they were a subject for a different day.

"The Dark Lord needs his rest, do you _dare _question him?" Bellatrix snarled out at her sister, arching protectively in front of where Voldemort was sitting as if she was some sort of demented lioness.

"Now now, Bella," Voldemort said with a strangely amused fondness. "We mustn't punish your dear sister for her curiosity. Questions are how we learn. Do not worry, Narcissa, I understand your concern, and know that it is abnormal for me to rest at this time of day – but you see, it is not midday in _Scotland, _now is it?"

Severus frowned slightly at this enlightenment, no, it was not midday in Scotland, it was nearly three in the morning, but wizards didn't suffer from jet-lag. It was as automatic as breathing or blinking for a wizard, _especially _one of Voldemort's caliber – the body would adjust itself naturally to accommodate the location. There was no reason at all for them to care what time it was in Scotland, unless Voldemort planned on apparating to Scotland before going to sleep – which would be strange behavior considering the fact that he'd _made _them all come to Australia anyway and had yet to explain why. Hm... well, he _was _insane. Why assume that his lack of sensibility only included basic morals? Perhaps Lord Voldemort thought it'd be a nice little joke to drag them all to Australia then leave them here without their wands while he snoozed at home.

No, that wasn't right. Voldemort lived in Little Hangleton – yes, it was three in the morning in both England and Scotland, but he had _said _Scotland. Was he going to attack Hogwarts in the middle of the night? No, he was going to take a nap. Snape's frown deepened as he realized that Voldemort was, again, being too enigmatic to predict.

Severus was roused from his thoughts as Voldemort again looked at him, this time lifting up Snape's wand and placing it in thin air, as if it were actually upon a shelf. The wand levitated itself automatically back to Snape's side, and although he _still _didn't value it as much as his genitalia, he was glad to be reunited with it. Voldemort did the same with Bellatrix's wand, leaving Lucius and Narcissa shamefully defenseless. Snape wondered why it was just them here anyway. Even for the Inner Circle, this must have been the _inner-_inner Circle or something of the sort. Or maybe they were the only ones stupid enough to come to mother fucking Australia.

"Severus, you will begin the potion today. Lucius and Narcissa will assist you. As I recall, you tutored both of them during your schoolboy days. I hope this familiarity will aid you as you work."

"My lord," Snape said, trying not to sound too exasperated. "I am perfectly capable of producing a flawless _Dreamless Sleep _potion without assistance of any kind."

"No, Severus," Voldemort said, shaking his head in a way that suggested he was about to be the bearer of bad news. "I'm afraid that _Dreamless Sleep _will not suffice. I require a deep sleep, yes – but it is also imperative that I am able to dream."

Ah, so _that's _what the catch was. There always was one with this tosser. It would be pointless to mention to his lordliness that such a potion did not exist, but Severus realized that if they _were _to find such a thing, it would probably be here in Australia. Spiders and their venom were very important when it came to the making of sleeping aids, and surely this was a good place to research and come up with something. Okay, so _maybe _Lucius and Narcissa would be able to help. As... cauldron stirrers or something. Yes, Lucius could prepare the base, Narcissa would speak to the locals. This would work. Still, what the hell did Voldemort _need _it for?

"When must it be completed, my Lord?"

Voldemort seemed to be thinking over this, before nodding slightly to himself. "As soon as possible, Severus. I shall not force a deadline on you – but this potion should be your top priority, so treat every day as if I'd told you it was to be finished that night."

Severus nodded. "Would that be all for now?"

"Yes," Voldemort replied, waving a dismissive hand towards Snape and the Malfoys. "Now, sweet Bella, if you wouldn't mind putting me to sleep..."

**XxBxExLxOxVxExDxX**

Nights in Scotland were rainy and cold, but Ronald Weasley slept safely within the magically warmed walls of Hogwarts Castle. Most of the night, he also slept soundly, but during the early hours of the morning, he woke. At first, Ron was unable to tell what woke him, though he did note that even at four in the morning – birds already chirped and sang, and the Forbidden Forest was as alive and audible as it always was. He turned grumpily, and tried re-fluffing his pillow, assuming that discomfort had been the cause of his slumber's untimely end.

After turning the pillow, re-fluffing it manually, and a miserable attempt at the domestic charm his mother used to fluff pillows, Ron decided that the pillow was perfectly comfortable all along and it must have been something else. He let his eyes adjust to the dark light in the room, and gazed around, looking for something that could have woken it. Neville was sleeping with that disturbing stillness that always reminded Ron of first year when they'd cast a full body bind on him, Seamus was snoring obnoxiously, Dean had his bed-curtains tightly shut and a silencing spell weakly lingering. Ron snickered in amusement, _someone _had wanked themselves to sleep last night.

Then, with a saddening sense of foreboding, Ron looked to Harry's bed beside his. He always checked Harry's last, because he always wanted to believe that maybe for _once _in their lives, Harry wasn't the odd one out. No such luck.

The boy who lived was thrashing aggressively in his sleep. He was laying down flat on his stomach, with his arms and legs all splayed out, and the way he pulled and twisted, it was almost as if someone had placed invisible handcuffs that kept Harry's limbs attached to the posts of his bed. Ron frowned, pulling out his wand and casting a _Finite Incantatem _on Harry's left ankle, thinking that it would remove the invisible cuff if there was one – or, at the very least, make it viewable. When that didn't work, Ron got up, and approached Harry. Experimentally, he lifted Harry's hand up off of the bed entirely, and the next thing he knew, the whole dorm was awake as Harry screamed out in agonizing terror.

His eyes shot open suddenly, and he yanked his hand away from Ron's screeching and feeling at it desperately, and hyperventilating. Alas, Harry calmed down, and cursed silently to himself as he realized what had happened.

Seamus wore an expression that demanded immediate answers, but Harry was already shying away from them. He and Seamus hadn't been getting on that well lately, anyway – but when Harry's eyes slowly took in the fact that Neville, Dean, and even _Ron _also expected some sort of explanation, he sighed with resignation.

"Er – Sorry?"

Was that seriously the best that Harry could come up with? Merlin's beard, the poor bloke finally _had _lost it. Neville and Ron shared a look that meant they'd both be speaking to Hermione about this in the morning, but until then it would be let to rest. Seamus and Dean seemed to be having a silent battle of the wills without saying a word, but best friends could be like that sometimes. Alas, when Dean's curtains closed again, and Seamus' breath thickened into a snore, Ron let himself slip back into his own sheets. Neville wouldn't sleep for a while, he knew. Neville was very sensitive to loud screaming, unless it was his own – ironically enough – and it had probably unsettled him enough to keep him awake until breakfast.

"Harry," Ron whispered, facing the top of his drapes rather than turning on his side to look at his disturbed companion. "It looked like … like you'd been handcuffed to your bed."

He could hear Harry gulping, and then a shaky response. "It _felt _like I was handcuffed to my bed, and when you lifted my arm like that, it felt like..." Harry paused and his breathing turned rapid as if he was feeling it all over again just from the memory. "It felt like you'd torn my hand right off, Ron." he whispered even more quietly. "Like my wrist was in the cuff, and you'd yanked my arm up anyway and just... just let my hand rip right off..."

Ron winced just from the sound of it, and resolved that they'd _definitely _have to tell Hermione about it in the morning. Then Ronald Weasley slept, and eventually, so did Neville Longbottom.

Harry Potter did not go back to sleep that night, he rose from his bed, and four times repeated the same word. That word – was _Obliviate._

**Ending A/N: So, what do you think of the first chapter? There will, of course, be parts of this that are more from Voldemort or Harry's POV, but I thought that Snape and Ron would do well as openers. Please take just a little bit of your time to write me a review, since I took a rather moderate amount of time to write this chapter. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. **_  
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**I love you for reading!**

**-Beloved**


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